


the faces we wear

by Duck_Life



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Assisted Suicide, Gen, Horror, Possession, Sad, Stabbing, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhappy Ending, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24862441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: Jon confronts Jonah Magnus by appealing to the body that houses him.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	the faces we wear

"I'm here to talk to Elias."

Jonah laughs. "Now, Jon. You know that isn't my name. I must say, I'm surprised to hear such… sentimentality for your old boss."

"I'm here to talk to Elias," Jon repeats. "Not to you. Can he hear me?"

Jonah looks curious. Another game for him to watch. Another exciting show. "What interest could you possibly have in  _ Elias _ ? Truly, this vessel was always just a placeholder until I found someone..." He smirks. “...  _ better _ .” 

Jon pushes down his anxieties and presses on. "I will speak to him," he says. They’re high up here, at the top of the tower in the center of the world, and his hair waves a little in the wind but the set of his jaw and shoulders is firm. “I will speak to the  _ real _ Elias.” 

Jonah's amusement slips, just slightly, revealing the ice beneath. Just as fast, he plasters his all-seeing smile back on. "No," he says, "no, I don't think you will."

"Elias," Jon says, pitching his voice to that place where the thunder rumbles and static rises. "Elias Bouchard."

"You can't really think you're any match for me, Jon."

"I'm… I'm the Archive," Jon spits back. Embracing the despicable role. "The scars and experiences of every Fear course through my veins. And you're just a man who's spent 200 years hiding behind masks." His eyes are relentless. "I'm here to talk to the mask."

The static rises to a crescendo. "Jonah" flinches back almost like he's been slapped. He shakes his head once, twice, staring in a way that seems more dazed than voyeuristic. 

"Elias?" Jon says. The man heaves a shuddery breath. He holds up his hands, stunned. “Elias Bouchard?” 

"Elias…” he murmurs, tilting his head up. He’s identical to Jonah, of course, but everything about him is different. His shoulders slump, his hands tremble. His eyes stare off into nothingness, and Jon realizes— Knows— that he can’t see anything. “Elias. That's… I think that's… used to be me," he says, in a way that makes Jon think of strangers stumbling off carousels and worms emerging from the dirt. "My eyes hurt."

"Elias, I'm the— I'm Jon," Jon says, looking at the face of the man who used him to break the world, the man who is, ultimately, just a victim in all this. "Do you… know what you… what's happened to you?"

"My eyes hurt," he says. 

“I know,” Jon says, wishing he could feel sympathy. Wishing he could feel anything but delight at having been right, at being so close to success. “Elias, listen, please, I need you to… Do you know how to stop him? Do you know how to stop Jonah Magnus?” 

Jonah’s vessel shakes his head sadly. “You can’t. I… I t-tried…” One hand comes up, grasping at his sightless eyes, and he shudders. “There’s nothing, no way to… My eyes hurt.”

“Please, Elias, focus.” Static crackles. “How do I end Jonah Magnus?” 

“That won’t work on me, you know,” Elias says. “Not anymore. Not when I’m…  _ me _ . But I’ll tell you anyway, because… because I want…” He shudders again. “He makes me look at it. All of it. I don’t want to see, but he doesn’t let me look away. You have to kill me.  _ Please _ , just…” He holds his head, and for just a moment Jon can see the naive man who joined the Institute in 1991, always eager to chat with the archival assistants or smoke a joint out back with one of the researchers. “Don’t make me look anymore. I don’t want to look anymore.” 

“If I kill you,” Jon says, “Jonah Magnus dies with you?” 

“I don’t know,” Elias says. “He might. And even if he doesn’t… it will be over for me and I just… please… I’m sorry, I’m  _ sorry _ , I know it’s selfish but I just can’t… I don’t want to see all of it anymore. I want it to be over.” 

“Of course. Right.” Jon looks at him. “I, um… I don’t think I can…” Sightless, Elias is immune to the method Jon normally uses to dispose of avatars. 

Martin steps forward. “It’s okay,” he says softly, drawing closer to Elias. In his hand, he’s holding a knife he must have pulled out of one of the bags. “I can do it.”

“Martin, no, are you sure?” Jon stammers. “It’s—”

“I know what it is, Jon,” Martin says, placing a hand on his shoulder. There’s no malice in his face, no want for revenge against the man who invaded his mind and tried to break him. This isn’t about him. “It’s mercy.” 

Elias has started crying when Martin reaches him. “Um. E-Elias?” Martin says, putting out a hand to let the other man know he’s there. “My name is Martin.”

“I know,” Elias says. “I know everything. I know too much.” He lets out a quiet sob. “I’m sorry. Martin, I’m… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I wish—”

“It’s okay,” Martin says quickly, raising the knife. “It’s okay. It’s over now. You’re, um. You’re going home.”

Elias mouths,  _ Thank you _ , and Jon watches as Martin plunges the knife into his chest. He’s swift and methodical, somehow gentle even in such a violent act. It occurs to Jon that if he ever needs to ask Martin to do the same for him… Well. 

Elias is dead. And now… now. Either Jonah Magnus has died with him, or… or everything is about to be so much worse. He watches as Martin tucks the knife away and leans over to close Elias’ eyes.

Jon waits with dread in his stomach, suddenly certain that he's miscalculated, that Martin has killed Elias but not Jonah. That any second he will feel someone new slide into his skin, another voice working his lungs and tongue and lips, unfamiliar eyes peering out of his skull. He waits, terrified, to lose himself completely.

But he doesn't. The air grows still. The dust clears, and Jon is still Jon. Jonah is gone, and Jon is still Jon. He almost cries in relief. 

"Martin," he gasps, gazing down at his hands that are still his hands and his legs that are still his own to move. "Martin, he's gone! It worked, it really… He didn't take me. I'm still me. It  _ worked _ ."

Martin says nothing, and Jon walks forward, wondering if the one he loves is just as breathless with relief as he is. It  _ worked _ . They really did it. 

“We should, ah, we should give Elias… we should give him a proper burial,” Jon says, rambling. “He deserves that. We can do that, and then, and then we should try and get in touch with Basira, or, or Georgie… and… and we can…” He shakes his head, almost laughs. The world isn’t exactly saved, not yet, but this is still a huge step forward. Jonah Magnus is gone. “Martin?”

Martin turns around. A cold, gleeful pair of eyes meets Jon’s gaze. And Martin's voice says, "Hello, Jon." 


End file.
